Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(87)

She pulled the helmet back on and continued without him, and he struggled to keep up as they turned into the next corridor. She’d studied his map well. Gideon was beginning to wonder if he was slowing her down.

“I feel redundant,” he grumbled.

“I was going to say ‘superfluous,’ but all the same, I suppose.” She grinned, and that just-kicked feeling now felt like a cannonball to the gut.

“So, you have no idea who was writing those letters to you when you were locked away? They never came to visit you?” Gideon asked, attempting to make sense of her story before they reached the guvre.

Keeley shook her head, shoving a cobweb out of the way with her free hand. “No. It was only ever me and my, uh, ‘mother.’ The letters were all I ever had of him.”

“I won’t give her any credit, but you turned out rather well despite it.”

“Was that a compliment?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“I’m afraid it was.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again.” The words were snide, but there was clear laughter in her voice.

Gideon did a little jog until he was next to her again. “So, it’s truly just coincidence that whoever was writing those letters to you claims to be a king? No ties to the office traitor?”

She was steady and sincere when she answered him. “No. Whoever the traitor is has nothing whatsoever to do with me. Although…”

“Although?” Gideon supplied.

“Although I suppose whoever my mother was working with to fool me could be seeking their revenge at losing their post. When I escaped to Massacre Manor as a girl, The Villain took pity on me and gave me a job. No need for more letters. Haven’t spoken to my mother since.”

“He hired a twelve-year-old to be a Malevolent Guard?” Gideon was outraged.

She laughed, and it was a joyous, husky sound. “No, of course not. He had me sorting files until I turned seventeen. I joined the ranks not long after that.”

Impressive. She was impressive, and that was a dratted problem. “Right, well. This is a lead, at least. When we’re done here, we’ll take this to The Villain and see if we can do some backward tracing.”

There was an uneasy set to Keeley’s shoulders, but before Gideon could ask her what had put it there, a loud screech echoed through the longest corridor on their left. A screech of distress. A screech of agony.

“The guvre,” Keeley said, lifting her mouthpiece to reveal a grimace.

“Let’s go!” Gideon yelled, taking off down the hall.

“She’s in pain,” Keeley said, running right alongside him. He noticed her clutching a hand to her chest, as if there was a thread from one woman to another that tugged them all when one was in pain.

Gideon pushed his legs harder and grimaced.

“Let’s hope to the gods it’s not labor pains, or this rescue just became far riskier than when we began.”





Chapter 55


Becky


Meanwhile, back at the manor…

Becky glowered at the memory flower, pinching the flared petals between her fingers, tempted to pick it apart until it withered into nothing. Let it die and be absorbed back into the earth. She was seconds away from doing it, she swore she was—until Nura Sage appeared over her shoulder to run her fingers across it.

“You look menacing, sitting here all by yourself,” Nura said with a sympathetic smile, lowering next to Becky until they were both sitting on the floor of the hallway, across from the doors leading down to the dungeons. “I heard little Roland was here.”

“He’s not so little anymore.” The delivery had more bite than she’d intended, but Nura didn’t seem to mind. She merely hummed, folding her hands over her knees.

“No, I suppose he’s old enough to make some poor choices, isn’t he?”

Becky had spent much of her early life trying to cram herself into boxes she never fit into, only to find that being boundless brought her the freedom to be happy with herself. Her mother’s betrayal had tried to trap her back into one of those boxes, so for the past few weeks she had to actively fight against it. Never again would she return to the version of herself so molded by the opinions of others.

So, she’d pushed herself to do all the things the old her would never have done. Like seeking advice from two women she considered her friends, or flirting with a man she was becoming fairly certain she was in love with, or having the courage to turn her back on her family to avoid getting hurt.

The old Becky would never have confided in Nura Sage.

But she was not the old Becky anymore, or even a brand-new one. She was just who she was—unashamed and proud—but now also trying her hand at living a life, not hiding away from her past. “Roland probably did what he did because he loves my mother and he wants to be a good son. It probably had nothing to do with me, and I don’t believe he even questioned if my mother had good intentions before carrying out the task.”

Nura’s dark brows slanted down. “You know all that, and yet…” she probed carefully.

Becky released a ragged sigh, and the memory flower responded to her touch, awakening to wrap a single petal around her finger. “I know all that, and yet it still really hurts that my brother chose to continue on so happily in a life that hurt me so badly.” She placed the potted flower back on the ground, and it drooped at the distance from her.